


Frost

by Toki_Blade



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Melancholy, Second Person, wirt is jack frost au, you know that time that wirt fell into the frozen lake?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:55:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toki_Blade/pseuds/Toki_Blade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t belong here.”</p><p>“Then why not go home?”</p><p>You have to look away.  “I don’t really belong there, either.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frost

**Author's Note:**

> I tried for 3rd person, I really did. But 2nd just sort of happens there is no changing that.
> 
> I really like 2nd but idk how other people feel about it? For me it's poetic and immersive, which is kind of what I was going for, so yeah.
> 
> if anyone cares I have a whole other rotgxotgw au that is entirely different from this one in every way.

The first thing you remember is the moon. The same half filled moon that’s haunted your entire journey in the Unknown. It leers down at you like some patronizing god, and you _know_.

You know.

You know a lot of things now.

Beatrice still talks to you sometimes, when she can find you. Apologies every chance she gets like any of this is even her fault. Flies on the wind with you, tries not let on how much the bitter cold affects her.

You spend most of your time alone. Not having much use for the company of others anymore.

Sometimes, you think of you mother. If she misses you or even notices that you’re gone. Think of Sara, of how she and Jason Funderberker are probably together by now and how you find you don’t really care.

You think about Greg.

You think about Greg a lot.

You don’t have your hat anymore, figure it didn’t cross over with you or that perhaps it just fell your head in the very beginning.

You don’t care.

You wallow in the cold and the snow, alone and bitter.

You don’t know how long it’s been, time seems to elude you more than ever, but Beatrice arrives with the dawn as you watch the snow fall in heavy clumps.

“Wirt.” She says, and you spare her a glance but don’t answer. “Wirt you have got to stop this.”

“Stop what.” You croak, and you realise that it must have been longer than you’d assumed.

“This _winter_ ,” she says, gesturing with a wing at the expanse of white, “It’s not good for you, it’s not good for anyone.”

“ _The flakes fall heavy like my heart, into the empty, the unknown. The white expanse that was once alive, growing until nothing is left._ ”

“Ohmygod.” Her eyes turn to the sky and she lets out a huff. “Wirt I know you’re upset-” that’s the understatement of the year, “but is this really anyway to deal with your problems? Forcing this on everyone? It’s not healthy. You have to face your problems no matter how terrible they are.”

You glance at her again, she’s shivering and you vaguely wonder if she’s been eating- if anything here really eats. You honestly can’t remember consuming anything in these woods. “Have you been to see your family?” You ask, and that seems to shut her down pretty quick. “Are you really one to talk to me about dealing with my problems if you can’t even deal with your own?”

She huffs, “That’s not the point, Wirt. I’m worried about you. This isn’t _healthy_ , you’re going to, to-”

“To _what_ , Beatrice?” You snap, “I’m already dead. _Greg’s_  already dead. What else could happen?”

You stare at eachother until she huffs and looks away. “I’m just afraid you’re going to lose yourself. Sorry for caring.” With that she flys off.

You don’t call after her.

-

Time passes differently now. You’re never sure if you’ve been staring off for a few minutes or a few days, and with the clouds blocking any form of light you can never really tell what time of day it is either.

Beatrice comes back, so it seems that is must have been long enough for her to forgo her anger. She doesn’t say anything today, just sits on a branch to your right as they watch the snow in palpable silence.

After what must have been a few hours her voice breaks through the icy air, “Do you think they hate me?”

You don’t look at her.

“I mean, it’s been so long. It’s my fault they’re like this and I can’t even fix it any more, not without the scissors.”

More time passes.

“You should go see them.”

She shakes her head and you briefly glance at her out of the corner of your eye. “I can’t do that. Not anymore. Not after all this time.”

The snow continues to fall.

-

Sometimes you’ll walk through the woods. Not really focusing on a destination or a goal, but to simply give yourself something to do. It’s a mindless activity, something to keep your body busy while your mind wanders.

More often than not you’ll come across your own footprints before the snow has had a chance to cover them up. You’re more lost than ever, in all senses of the word, but you’re not sure if it really even matters anymore.

-

You sit in the clearing sometimes, when you can handle it without making yourself sick. Not too close, just on the edge, sometimes even facing away. But being near him is nice sometimes- or what’s left of him at least.

Branches wind around a forgotten teapot and you talk. Probably more than you ever have.

You tell him stories, and fables. About the kids at school and snippets of history that you can actually remember.

You tell him you’re sorry, for messing up so bad. Tell him about what you’ve turned this world into. Tell him that you’re not sure if you can even stop it now.

Tell him you’re scared.

That you don’t really know what you’re doing anymore, that you wish you could end it but it doesn’t really work like that now.

You tell him you miss him, that you wish he was here. That it should have been you and not him- never him.

Your eyes are dry and crystallized with ice, but if you could cry it’d be here, be now.

-

Temperature doesn’t really affect you anymore. You suppose you’re ‘cold’ but it doesn’t really matter.

You don’t really need to breathe or eat.

Don’t really know if you can.

Beatrice finds you on the lake, as you’re trying to smash the ice apart with rocks and your bare hands.

She cries at you and dives at your face, trying to make you stop.

“Beatrice, what-” you’re hands come up to swat at her and- oh.

You didn’t know you could bleed anymore.

“Wirt, _please_ -” you think she’d be crying but you don’t think birds have tear ducts, “-don’t do this I know it’s hard but I’m here for you just please _don’t_ -”

You blink at her.

“What?”

She stops short. “Don’t, uh, what are you doing?”

“I wanted my,” you falter, “hat. It fell off when I- I wanted it back.”

You weren't looking for your hat.

“Oh,” says Beatrice, “ _Oh!_ ” And then she starts laughing. “I thought you were trying to- oh it doesn’t matter. We can get you a new hat. Come’on Wirt, I bet we can find one right now.”

You follower her off of the lake and into the woods.

-

You find your way to Pottsfield. The snow seems less here, falling almost gently.

Beatrice is getting chatty with the townsfolk, probably trying to procure you a new hat.

You don’t want a new hat.

You don’t want a hat at all.

You’re hair is snow and is frozen in all directions but you can’t even bring yourself to care anymore.

“You could stay, you know.” Enoch says, and you glance at him and shrug.

“I don’t belong here.”

“Then why not go home?”

You have to look away. It’s hot- too hot. Anything more than the frozen world outside is too much for you. “I don’t really belong there, either.”

“It seems you don’t belong a lot of places.”

You don’t answer him.

-

You have a new hat.

It’s brown and stark against your hair.

You hate it.

You tell Beatrice that you love it and that it’s just what you needed.

She seems appeased.

You mill around in the woods for a while until Beatrice says she has some things to do, that she’ll see you in a few days.

(She’s cold but you’re not sure if that has anything to do with why she’s leaving.)

You watch her fly off.

Back to the lake.

-

You break the surface.

You’re not sure how long you have before the water refreezes but you’re sure you’ll be fine.

(If you’re not does it really matter?)

You have to dig around in the mud, and squint through the murky water.

(It’s dark and you have to keep a sharp eye while still not looking at yourself.)

It has to be around here somewhere.

You feel like you should be breathing- probably. But more in the ‘habit’ sense than the ‘to live’ sense.

You find it.

You have to rebreak some of the ice but it’s not so bad that you can’t get back to the surface.

You breath.

You cough.

Your clothes freeze to your skin.

You’ve lost your new hat.

You head to wait it out in a tree.

-

Beatrice finds you again.

(Always finds you.)

You hold them out just as she begins to say “What happened to your-”

She stops to look at you.

Really look at you.

“You weren't looking for your hat, were you?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, _Wirt_ -”

She’s doing the almost crying thing again, and flies toward you like she wants to hug you but then seems to remember and back off.

“I used them to cut us out of the string.”

“You had them the whole time-?”

You shrug, “Well I had to go get them, but yeah.”

“Oh _you_ -”she cuts herself off with a gasp, “I have to tell my family! I have to go find them!”

You smile (smiling hurts and you don’t know why) “Yeah, I’m sure they’re gonna be really happy for you.”

“Wirt,” she coos, “wait till you meet them, they’re going to love you!”

You nod but don’t answer.

(It hurts.)

“I’m going to go find them right away! And then I’ll come back and then everything will be okay!”

You smile.

(It hurts.)

She snatches the scissors from your hands, “I’ll be right back Wirt, wait right here.”

You nod again (it hurts too much to speak) and she’s off.

And so are you.

-

You say goodbye to Greg.

Apologise again, tell him you love him.

You want to linger longer but you know you can’t.

It’s time.

-

You can hear Beatrice calling you now. Asking for you to answer, begging, pleading.

You have to hurry.

If she finds you you won’t be able to do it.

And you have to.

You’re ready now.

The snow has stopped and you think you can even see a bit of sunlight peeking behind layers of clouds.

It’ll be soon now.

You’ve know for a while what you had to do, but couldn’t quite bring yourself to let go.

You knew you couldn’t stay here, but you couldn’t go back either.

So you have to move on.

You have to find out whatever’s next.

Find where you need to be.

The clouds part and you step out of the woods.

 


End file.
